


Hoovervilles and the Great Depression

by AmericanTimelord



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family, Great Depression, Hoovervilles, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmericanTimelord/pseuds/AmericanTimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hooverville is "a place for anyone who has no where else to go". They sprouted up all across America after the Stock Market Crash. The people there needed a hero, and there's one perfect for the job. Short fluffy one shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoovervilles and the Great Depression

Everything changed in just a split second, the economy dropped, people were out of work, out of money, and out of options. I sat there in my house, my large empty house, cabinets and fridges filled with food, while people were out there suffering. My people were out there suffering and I was living it up. I couldn't take it, couldn't live with myself for doing that. I could rough it out for them, and I would. I felt like shit all the time now anyway, the whole world pretty much hated me, maybe this was a good thing to do. Getting away from it all could help a lot. I gave my key to my attendant. He was a good guy, had a family and everything to take care of. I knew he was living in an apartment that he could hardly afford, not to mention that it was much too small for all of his family. At least this would help them get back on their feet, not having to pay for rent for a while.  
  
“Sir I'm honored but...What are you doing? Don't you have work you need to be doing in DC? I don't think they'll be happy that you're skipping town”  
  
I finished up packing my things, putting it all in just one pack, “They don't need me anyway, I hardly do a thing these days. It'll be three years, tops. You enjoy yourself here in that time, okay? I know how rough this has been on you too”  
  
“While I'm really thankful for this, don't be gone long. What if something...major happens?”  
  
“Then I'm in New York City, not even far away”, I said, reassuringly. I was fairly convinced this would only be a good thing for me. 

  


The economy was the only thing going across Hoover's desk anyway, and I wasn't any help there. I grabbed my bag and was on my way, just up the coast to New York City, the bustling, booming center of the east coast, or rather it was. Back then, there were more people living on the street than I had ever seen before. A large majority of them were in central park. They called them Hoovervilles, groups of ragtag tents and tin siding houses set up anywhere that they could find. They popped up all over the country, a place for people to go when there was nowhere else. They were like little communities, though they didn't have much of anything to their names, they still worked things out enough. I decided I was going to stay in central park too, see how it really was. I walked through the center of the little community; there had to have been hundreds of people. I smiled at everyone who would glance over at me. Sometimes I was recognized, and they'd smile a little back to me before going back and tending to what they were doing. I heard that there was a sort of leader there, an older guy, a veteran of the first World War and he wasn't hard to find.  
  
I extended my hand to him, “Oh hey there! Glad to meet you, I'm Alf---”  
  
“Alfred F. Jones, I'm very aware of who you are, but I'd rather know why you're here”, he sighed, cutting me off. “Unless you have good news, I can't say I'm happy to see you...”  
  
“Not good news really....”, I admitted, “I just, I want to stay here”  
  
He was a bit thrown by that, “Here? What for? Surely Hoover isn't kicking our country out on the streets, though I wouldn't be surprised”  
  
“No, nothing like that. I'm out here of my own will, heh”, I said, motioning to the bag.  
  
“Why the hell would you go and do that?”  
  
“Does it matter why?”, I asked sincerely. He thought about it for a second. I'm sure I was one of the last people he expected to see in his camp.  
  
“Alright then, though you'll be treated no different than anyone else”  
  
“Good, that's why I'm here”, I said, setting up my things. 

There may have been one or two things Alfred hadn't thought of when he took off to New York, mainly, certain countries that may want to visit him. One, Arthur Kirkland, wished to visit Alfred, mainly his government though and chew him out a bit more about his current economic status. After his meeting with the officials, he was surprised to learn that the American had taken off to New York City.  
  
“He's gone and what now? I really don't believe I understand”  
  
“Alfred felt bad about living in a large place, so he went to stay in Central Park. That's all there is to it”  
  
Arthur was fairly confused at this point, never had he thought of living on the streets like that willingly, especially when he had a nice place just waiting for him. He decided to go and see what all of it was about, taking a train up to the city. He wandered around a bit before finding the park; he hadn't been to New York in quite some time. It was bigger than he remembered. He walked into the shanty little community, feeling rather out of place. Asking around, he was directed to Alfred's current living space. It was an old military tent the he probably had from the war.  
  
“Alfred? Are you there?”, the Englishman asked tentatively, poking his head in.  
  
He was writing something when he heard the voice, “Arthur? Oh hey! Come on in”  
  
“What is all of this...?”  
  
“All of this? Hah, it's my house, for now anyway. I wanted to rough it out here for a while”, he said, stirring some sort of pot in his hands.  
  
“I meant why”  
  
“Oh right. Well, I couldn't stand staying in that house all by myself when there are hundreds of people living outside like this. I had food and shelter, basic things, that these people don't get the luxury of anymore. Why should I be better than them? Not to mention, all the little odd jobs I'm doing while I'm here, the profits I'm giving to them for food. Was that your question?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose it was...You're quite something doing all this”  
  
“I didn't think twice about it, just hopped the train and came out here. Was there something you wanted?”  
  
Arthur thought for a minute about why he had come all the way out there. He wasn't about to go and yell at the American about the crash when he was out there suffering with his people, though he seemed to enjoy it. Now he had to make something up, and quickly.  
  
“I was just in the neighborhood, so I came to see what you were doing”  
  
“That's nice of you, I guess...You can stay for dinner if you want, but you're going to have to live with rice and this stew I'm making”  
  
Arthur looked over at the food. There was hardly enough for Alfred, much less two of them. “I'll have to pass chap, I'm catching a plane here in a bit”  
  
“Oh? Have a good trip”

  


It continued like that, Alfred living there in Central Park, for two or three years. He was able to know the locals quite well, hearing their stories of where they came from and how they ended up there. It interested him. He'd sit there all night listening if they were willing to tell him. He decided to go home right before he got a new boss, Roosevelt. He claimed to have a plan to fix everything, a New Deal. Before Alfred left though, he sent word to his estate, taking some of the money from his personal account. He distributed it to everyone who had put up with him for the past few years, hoping maybe it would at least take a bit of stress off of them to find food money and such. He was glad to do it, what else were heroes for?


End file.
